


Best Laid Plans

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Arranged Marriage, Background Josephine Montilyet/Lord Otranto, F/F, Isabela (Dragon Age) and Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: Josephine had dreaded this meeting, for her new situation would severely complicate matters between her and Isabela.





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sunspot (unavoidedcrisis) for the beta! <3

“You really _are_ marrying him.” Isabela held up the ring against the light.

“I am.” Josephine, who had been staring out of the window, looked sharply back at Isabela. “Put that back.”

The rogue complied, putting the ring with its precious little diamond back in the small box. It was an engagement ring, not a wedding band. Any day now, the details of betrothal could be settled, and Josephine would start wearing it. She had invited Isabela here, in her personal apartment close to Antiva City’s garden district where they had met several times before, to inform her of the match.

Josephine had dreaded this meeting, for her new situation would severely complicate matters between them.

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even want to marry this man.”

“I don’t?” Josephine turned her face back to the scene outside the window. Women were hanging their frocks to dry from their window, while a young child with a red velvet cap chased a well-fed dog. “That’s news to me.”

“Be honest with yourself. You’re not doing this for the right reasons,” Isabela said, as though she had any claims to a superior morality.

Josephine merely laughed.

She thought of the titles she would gain when she married Lord Otranto, the expanding access to trading routes of both goods and information, the chance to produce an heir to keep the Montilyet bloodline strong and prosperous.

“You’re wrong. And jealous.” Josephine tilted her head. “It’s not an attractive trait.”

Isabela walked over to where Josephine was standing, her hips swaying in an attempt to show Josephine that she did possess other attractive qualities. Josephine felt both of Isabela’s hands slide over her waist, her possessive fingers curling into the light fabric of Josephine’s house dress. Isabela’s full breasts and soft gut pressed against her back, her mouth dangerously close to her ear.

“Will he please you better than I can?”

Josephine closed her eyes and braced herself against the windowsill. Her heart beat heavily with longing – not even just of the physical kind, but of companionship. The man who was about to become her fiancé seemed nice enough, but his accounts of dueling and other activities frequently engaged in by Antivan noblemen had nothing on Isabela’s tales about her exploits at sea.

Josephine looked at the street below, and anxiety bubbled up in her chest, constricted her throat. She shouldn’t – what if people saw her? It could compromise everything. She would dishonor her family, destroy all of the reputation she had so carefully cemented over the years.

With much effort, she pried Isabela’s hands from her body.

“You do not get to make that decision for me.” Josephine turned around and looked up at Isabela, who only appeared taller than her because she was wearing heeled leather boots. “Not anymore.”

“Then why am I here?”

Josephine sighed.

“I realize it must look like I called you here under false pretenses, but it seemed fairer to let you know in person.”

If Josephine had loved Isabela, if her feelings had really condensed to that one word, her choice would have been different. Simpler, even. Instead, her feelings towards the Admiral were complex, ranging from wanting her near as often as possible to occasionally wishing she would be marooned at sea. It was true that she was fond of Isabela, of her stories – of the hand weaving through her hair while listening to these stories – as well as her bravery and willingness to protect the resurrected Montilyet trading fleet. But Isabela was a liability. An uncertainty. And most definitely not the marrying kind.

Josephine wriggled herself out of the space she occupied between the window and Isabela. Isabela, unbothered by Josephine walking away from her, sat down in the armchair in the corner of Josephine’s bedroom.

“You must understand that sometimes…” Josephine began, the richly detailed Rivaini rug stifling her footsteps as she paced back and forth, emphasizing every word with a gesture of her hands. “Sometimes, marriages come forth out of convenience, not love, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t advantages to be gained by either party. That’s the way it is.” Josephine frowned. “But then, I suppose you do not have much experience with marriage.”

Isabela’s posture changed so rapidly that it became almost threatening. She leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her hands. She was smiling still, but only with her mouth, not her eyes.

“No offense, sweet thing, but you have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.”

Josephine immediately felt she had broached the wrong subject. She stopped pacing and she bent her head, humbled.

“Of course. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I should not have assumed anything.”

Isabela surveyed her from tip to toe. To her own annoyance, Josephine flushed bright red under her scrutiny.

“Nah. You’re good,” Isabela decided, at last. She grinned and leaned back, crossing her legs. She looked around the abundantly decorated room, gazing over all the riches it had to offer: the golden candlesticks, the shimmering frames on the still lives, the patterned wallpaper that appeared to change hues with the weather.

“Well.” Isabela fiddled with an earring. “I suppose this means our dealings will return to strictly business. Don’t worry about me, I’ll land on my feet. Or other parts. Or other people’s other parts, if that suits you.”

Josephine made a dismissive gesture.

“Please. It would not behoove you to pretend I am your only company.”

“That may be true, but you were the one with the most expensive sheets.”

“Why, speaking in past tense already?” Josephine said, making a point out of closing the curtain. It was considerably darker in the room now, but at least they were shielded from prying eyes.

“Aren’t you all funny today?” Isabela leaned forward, her upper body just out of the darkest shadows, when Josephine came to stand right in front of her.

“No one officially knows about the engagement yet, and Antivan nobles tied by such an arrangement often take lovers,” Josephine said, laying her hand against Isabela’s shoulder. She made it appear as though it was a spur of the moment thought, an option considered when she was standing with her back against the metaphorical wall. The contrary was true. She had been entertaining the thought for quite a while, never quite certain when to put it forward.

Isabela let out a loud cackle that broke all of the tension that had been building up in the room.

“What? Little old me? Your mistress?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Josephine said with a  smile as Isabela reached for her, and Josephine settled quite comfortably in the hollow of her lap. The mood grew lighter, even though they knew there was a possibility this was the last time they could spend in such a fashion – if things did not go as planned, if Josephine’s soon-to-be-husband absolutely prevented her from seeking company outside marriage.

“Oh, but people will write stories about you,” Isabela said, brushing her thumb over Josephine’s bottom lip, then the piercing underneath it. “The shrewd Antivan noblewoman, seduced by the ruthless Rivaini pirate. Makes for a pretty title page.”

Josephine nudged Isabela’s shoulder with her own.

“You are giving yourself entirely too much credit,” Josephine said. “As I recall correctly, I had to beat you at Wicked Grace multiple times before you would even give me the time of day.”

“Such fanciful talk. I wanted to give you the time of day from the moment I met you. Time of night, too.”

“Must have been difficult, not getting what you wanted right away,” Josephine teased. She curled closer towards Isabela in the shadows.

“It’s called ‘delayed gratification’, sweetheart, look it up.” Isabela bit her lip and wedged her hands underneath the straps of Josephine’s dress. “Speaking of…I _quite_ liked that thing you did last time.”

By the time they started kissing, Isabela’s hands had already brushed the dress off Josephine’s shoulders.


End file.
